Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom

by Dio Chrysostom

  For what Homer or what mortal man at all can describe the things that happen here? For example, in Homer’s narrative the chariots do not sink so low at times and then rise so high on the course as your spirits may be seen to rise and fall. And this is the way he puts it, if I may favour you with a short passage:

  At times the cars clung close to bounteous earth,

  At times they bounded high; the drivers still

  Stood firm, though hearts did pound as each man strove

  To win the goal, and each called to his team.

  [80] In this passage it is the charioteers who are represented as contestants and rivals, while the spectators look on in silence, as indeed was fitting. And only at the end does the poet say that Ajax the Locrian behaved in rather unseemly fashion as a spectator by abusing Idomeneus with reference to the horses of Eumelus. It was Ajax, moreover, who also was guilty of impiety toward Athena at the capture of Troy and on that account was himself smitten with a thunderbolt and thereby caused the storm and shipwreck that befell them all. For the man who in such matters as those is brazen and forward cannot act sanely in other matters, as I have said before.

  [81] Here, then, you have an instance of wickedness and folly alike, and from men also such as are at Alexandria, except that in fighting, in deeds of valour, and in capturing cities no man here is the equal of Ajax. But among you not a man keeps his seat at the games; on the contrary you fly faster than the horses and their drivers, and it is comical to see the way you drive and play the charioteer, urging the horses on and taking the lead and — getting spilled. And so it is no bad parody that has been composed by one of your feeble versifiers:

  [82] At times the cars clung close to bounteous earth,

  At times they bounded high; but in their seats

  The gaping crowd did neither stand nor sit,

  Pallid with fear and fright, and in their zeal

  To win they shouted each to each, and, hands

  Upraised, they vowed great offerings to all the gods.

  Just as the scream of cranes or cry of daws

  Doth rise, when they have drunk of beer and wine

  O’ermuch, and clamourous they fly to reach

  The course; as daws or starlings in a cloud

  [83] With baleful screaming swoop, when they behold

  A horse onrushing, bearing death to fools;

  So these with yells upon each other fell.

  Just as the wind o’er sacred floor doth bear

  The chaff, as flaming fire doth sweep deep glens,

  Whirled by the wind now here now there, and ‘neath

  Its onslaught thickets shrivel, root and branch;

  So these did strive like fire; nor couldst thou say

  That either sun or moon was safe from them.

  [84] Just like the growth of leaves, so that of men,

  Shallow of mind, devoted to song, and proud,

  And from both sides the noise pierced heaven’s vault,

  The courts of Zeus. And thus one turned and spake

  Unto his neighbour: “Heavy with wine art thou;

  Thou hast the eyes of a dog, the heart of a hind.

  Why dost thou quake and stare at a car in the race?

  Just try me, then, if thou wouldst mangled lie.”

  Hippocoön to him made this reply:

  “Kind sir, in silence sit and heed my word:

  A weak thing is thy driver, slow thy team.”

  [85] To him then spake the charger fleet from ‘neath

  The yoke: “See’st not how fine a steed am I,

  How handsome and stalwart? Still for even me

  Doth wait grim death and stubborn-hearted fate.

  I would that you yourselves had all received

  From white-armed Hera just such hooves as mine;

  No more would you sit and murmur each to each.”

  He spake. But they made vows to Zeus the King.

  [86] There you have just a few out of many sorry verses, to prove that you are not the only ones to seem ridiculous. And certainly it is disgraceful, men of Alexandria, that those who inquire about your city are told how wonderful everything else is here, but that with respect to yourselves nothing is mentioned of which to be proud or fit to emulate, but that, on the contrary, you are given a bad name as being worthless fellows, mere mimes and buffoons instead of men of real valour, as one of the comic poets said of people like yourselves,

  An unbridled mob, a disorderly gang of tars.

  [87] In fact it is just as if you should see a house that is very beautiful, but should discover that the master himself is a slave and not fit to be even the porter. On the whole it is better to face empty benches than to behold no more than fifteen substantial citizens in the midst of an innumerable horde of wretched, raving creatures, a sort of concentrated dunghill piled high with the sweepings of every kind. Why, the word ‘city’ could not justly be applied to a community composed of men like that, any more than ‘chorus’ befits a chance company of nondescripts or ‘army’ just any mob!

  [88] For example, even the host of Xerxes was not brilliant, except at breaching a wall or digging a canal or some other manual labour; nor was the city of the Trojans fortunate, since it consisted of depraved, licentious citizens. And yet it was both large and famous; but still the man from Ithaca sacked it, yes, the man from that tiny, inglorious island sacked a city of exceedingly wide domain. Therefore I fear that you also may perish like those Trojans — if I may be permitted the trite observation that Troy also is said to have been destroyed by a certain horse; however, while the Trojans perhaps were taken captive by a single horse, your capture is the work of many horses. [89] For you must not think that the taking of a city consists alone in levelling its ramparts, slaughtering its men, leading its women into captivity, and burning its dwellings; nay, those happenings may mark the final stage, a stage of short duration and one that makes the victims more deserving of pity than of ridicule; but in the case of people who disregard all that is noble and are passionately enamoured of one thing that is ignoble, who centre their attention upon that alone and spend their time on that, constantly leaping and raving and beating one another and using abominable language and often reviling even the gods themselves and flinging away their own belongings and sometimes departing naked from the show — that is a disgraceful, an ignominious capture for a city.

  [90] For I assert that men have been taken captive, not by pirates only or other persons, but also by a courtesan or gluttony or by any other low desire. The term ‘captive,’ then, may well be used, not only of a person, but of a city too, provided that city, abandoning the nobler pursuits and having neither eyes nor ears for anything conducive to salvation, but yielding instead to the clutches of drink or singing girls or racing chariots, is made the prize of conquest and thrown into utter confusion thereby and bereft of its senses. Yes, by Zeus, the man who experienced such a capture might well be said to have been taken by storm and manacled to boot. For if when a man’s body has been overpowered and confined by chains or guards, we consider that these disagreeable happenings constitute captivity and slavery and violent seizure, when the soul has been taken captive and ruined, we should not dissimulate or underrate it.

  [91] And yet, while such experiences are doubtless terrible even in the case of individuals, they are altogether more disgraceful when they happen to a people. For indeed all other afflictions, as long as they affect a single person, receive no great or awful label; but when the visitation becomes general, it is called a plague. For, on the whole, all varieties of human weakness might be discovered anywhere at all, and drunkards, perverts, and woman-crazed wretches are present in every city; and yet not even that condition is disturbing or beyond endurance; but when malady becomes prevalent and a common spectacle, then it becomes noteworthy and serious and a civic issue.

  [92] For example, what city is there, unless it be one very sparsely populated and small, in which day by day there is not at least one person ill with fever?
However, fever has all but taken possession of the Caunians, and in their case it is a reproach to the community, because they all suffer from it; just as also certain peoples have won admiration and esteem for traits that are better. For instance, how many Athenians or Megarians or Corinthians, do you suppose, used to cultivate their bodies and live laborious lives? Many, obviously, and especially in the days when they had to be valiant in defence of their countries. [93] Why is it, then, that the Spartans alone among them got a name for that and have enjoyed the reputation ever since? It is because as a people they acquired the love of honour. And as to the Athenians, because they were more devoted to the cultivation of the arts of speech and poetry and choral song and dance, that devotion, for the same reason, caused them in their turn to be admired in these fields. But take care lest the reputation that you gain resemble, not that of the Athenians and the Spartans, but rather that of certain others — for I do not care to name them. For, as I have often said, shameful conduct is more shameful and ridiculous when it involves whole cities. [94] Just as in the case of comedies and revues when the poets bring upon the scene a drunken Carion or a Davus, they do not arouse much laughter, yet the sight of a Heracles in that condition does seem comical, a Heracles who staggers and, as usually portrayed, is clad in womanish saffron; in much the same way also, if a populace of such size as yours warbles all through life or, it may be, plays charioteer without the horses, it becomes a disgrace and a laughing stock. Indeed this is precisely what Euripides says befell Heracles in his madness:

  Then striding to a car he thought was there,

  He stepped within its rails and dealt a blow,

  As if he held the goad within his hand.

  [95] Maybe, then, like so many others, you are only following the example set by Alexander, for he, like Heracles, claimed to be a son of Zeus. Nay rather, it may be that it is not Heracles whom your populace resembles, but some Centaur or Cyclops in his cups and amorous, in body strong and huge but mentally a fool.

  In heaven’s name, do you not see how great is the consideration that your emperor has displayed toward your city? Well then, you also must match the zeal he shows and make your country better, not, by Zeus, through constructing fountains or stately portals — for you have not the wealth to squander on things like that, nor could you ever, methinks, surpass the emperor’s magnificence — but rather by means of good behaviour, by decorum, by showing yourselves to be sane and steady. For in that case not only would he not regret his generosity because of what has happened, but he might even confer on you still further benefactions. And perhaps you might even make him long to visit you. [96] For it is not so much the beauty of your buildings that might attract him, for he has buildings of every kind finer and more costly than anywhere; but he may be attracted when he hears that the people to receive him are worthy of his favour and his trust, and when each of his emissaries and ministers speaks highly of you. For you must not imagine, that, although you yourselves inquire about those who enter your harbour, what kind of people they chance to be, and your judgement concerning them at once corresponds to their reputation, yet the emperor’s agents are not curious to learn what kind of people the Alexandrians are. Therefore, if they hear that you are sensible, and not, as is now the common report, flighty, easy-going, inclined to admire petty things, with a weakness for trivialities, passionately devoted to jockeys and harpists, there is no doubt how they will feel.

  [97] Theophilus, they say, who proved himself a man of wisdom here in Alexandria, preserved silence toward you and would hold no converse with you. And yet what do you think was his purpose? Was it because he thought you to be wise yourselves and in need of treatment: or rather had he despaired of you as being incurable? For it is very much as if a trader with many precious wares should land at a city, and then, constrained by certain winds or by some mischance, should spend a long time there without either setting out any of his wares or displaying them at all; for evidently it would be because he was convinced either that the inhabitants were in extreme poverty, or else that they were ignorant, and so he would be unwilling to go to useless trouble, feeling certain that no one of the inhabitants would either make a purchase or, perhaps, come to see him. [98] Theophilus too, we conclude, though he had many notable wares inside of him, kept them to himself, being aware that you were extremely poor, not in money, but in judgement and understanding. Well, then, he is dead, having by his silence passed adverse judgement on your city, and, though you have often heard so-and-so speak and can well recall his jokes, and also the songs of what’s-his-name, I am not sure that you have ever heard Theophilus; just as someone has said of the beetles in Attica, that, though Attica has the purest honey, the beetles never taste of it, not even if it is poured out for them, but only of the other kind of food.

  [99] But, someone will say, you are a jolly folk and the best jesters in the world. That is no calling for a people — how could it be? — nor for a city, but rather for a Thersites. At least Homer says that Thersites himself came among all the Greeks as a jester, not speaking with decorum,

  But what he thought would make the Argives laugh.

  Yet not what makes men laugh is good or honourable, but rather what makes them joyful; and for lack of joy and for ignorance thereof men seek laughter. You must have heard of the plant called Sardonian, which produces laughter, but sure, but a laughter which is distressing and disastrous. [100] Therefore be not so devoted to that laughter, nor cause the Graces to be unmusical and vulgar and boorish, but rather imitate Euripides in these lines of his:

  May I ne’er cease to join in one

  The Muses and the Graces;

  Such union is surpassing sweet,

  and thus will your Mouseion be regarded, not just as a place in the city, as indeed, I fancy, there are other places with labels devoid of meaning, not possessing a character to match the name.

  [101] But enough of this, for I fear that I too have had the experience that they say befell a certain Egyptian, a musician of the very early school. For the story goes that the deity once told that musician in a dream that he was destined to sing into an ass’s ears. And for a while he paid no heed and gave no thought to the dream, as being a matter of no consequence. But when the tyrant of Syria came to Memphis, since the Egyptians admired the artist, he summoned him. So the musician gave a performance with all zest and displayed the more intricate phases of his art; but the tyrant — for he had no appreciation of music — bade his cease and treated him with disdain. And the musician, recalling that forgotten dream, exclaimed, “So that was the meaning of the saying, ‘to sing into an ass’s ears’ “. And the tyrant, having heard from his interpreters what the musician had said, bound and flogged the man, and this incident, they say, was the occasion of a war.

  THE THIRTY-THIRD, OR FIRST TARSIC, DISCOURSE

  In this Discourse Dio appears to be addressing a public gathering of the people of Tarsus upon invitation. Like the comic poets to whom he refers, he treats his audience to λοιδορία, inveighing against their wantonness and moral decay. Fully half of what he has to say is concerned with what he calls ῥέγκειν. Though his treatment of that topic is manifestly humorous, it is designed to make palatable the serious charges that he desires to make.

  The word ῥέγκειν is said to mean now ‘snort,’ now ‘snore.’ For lack of an English word of like flexibility, the translator has elected to use consistently that one of the two conventional meanings that seemed the better adapted to the majority of occurrences. ‘Snort,’ however, is doubtless inadequate as an interpretation of Dio’s meaning. He himself appears to be perplexed as to the proper label for the sound to which he has applied the term (55). He does give some clues. It is a sound made by some persons when asleep (34), by small boys, and by some mature men of good standing (33-34). It might be taken to denote the presence of a brothel (36). It is made by persons of uncertain sex (36). It is more suitable for the elderly (45). It is produced by the nose (50). It is a symptom of bad mor
als (50-51). It is not clucking or smacking of the lips or whistling, nor is it employed by shepherds, plowmen, huntsmen, or sailors (55). It is a sound peculiar to neither man nor woman, not even to a harlot, but rather to a male of the most debased sort (60). If, then, Dio himself, in spite of elaborate efforts to define the sound, has found no better term to symbolize his meaning, perhaps indulgence may be shown the translator.

  To the modern reader Tarsus inevitably suggests the name of Paul. The picture of that ancient city, half Greek and half oriental, to be found in this Discourse and in the one to follow, awakens the keener interest for that reason. Sir William Ramsay holds that the Athenodorus of whom we hear exerted an influence upon the thought of Paul. Arnim assigns the present Discourse to Dio’s latest period.